


Beaches

by osprey_archer



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I don’t need you to cheer me up,” Lydia said. “I just...need you to be here. And you are. So...thanks.”</i>
</p>
<p>After the Wickham debacle, Mary tries to cheer Lydia up with a day at the beach. In February. Okay, cheering people up is not really Mary's forte.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beaches

The wind off the ocean propelled Mary and Lydia along the beach, hopping over mounds of soggy seaweed at the high tide mark and not talking. Mary tried to sink into her hoodie, cursing herself for dragging Lydia along on this outing. 

She had hoped it would cheer Lydia up, like it used to cheer Mary up when Lydia dragged her places. But of course Lydia always insisted they go places that were actually _fun_.

“This is awesome,” said Lydia, picking a strand of hair out of her mouth. Mary couldn’t tell if Lydia was being sarcastic or attempting to manufacture enthusiasm. Before Wickham - Mary had thought of him briefly as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, until she decided it was way too complimentary to compare him to Voldemort - it was always perfectly, often insultingly obvious how Lydia felt about everything. 

Mary had hated that. But now that Lydia had lost her drama and sparkle, Mary missed the way Lydia used to blare her opinions to the world. Mary had never been brave enough to do that: Mary had never had Lydia’s way of assuming the world would care. 

“The beach in February, best idea _ever_ ,” said Lydia, and yes, that was definitely sarcasm. Mary grinned, glancing at Lydia, but Lydia was scowling down at her feet as she kicked through the sand. A seagull shrieked. 

“Totes amazing, am I right?” Mary said, using her best Lydia voice. It wasn’t very good: she’d never had Lydia’s or Lizzie’s gift for mimicry. 

Lydia didn’t even crack a grin. She plucked a smooth rock off the sand, jiggling it in her palm. A shirtless jogger loped past. 

Mary elbowed Lydia in the ribs. “Hot?” she asked, gesturing after the guy with her chin. 

Lydia gave a quick irritated flick of her head. “Whatever.” 

Mary wished for a spot of quicksand to sink into. Of course Lydia didn’t feel like talking about guys, after Wickham.

_Mary is busy with Eddie_ , Lydia had said on her videos, back when she first started dating Wickham - not that Mary had seen the video then. She _had_ been busy with Eddie. If she hadn’t let herself get so caught up in him...

Lydia tossed her rock into the water. The waves rushed up the beach. Mary skittered up the sand away from the water, but Lydia let it wash over her feet. 

Lydia didn’t blame Mary for the Wickham debacle. Mary almost wished she would: at least then Lydia wouldn’t be blaming herself. 

Lydia had drawn her mouth into a fierce frown, her unwashed hair falling in strings around her face as she glared viciously at the sand. 

Mary sighed and looked away, scanning the beach. Her eye caught on a giant plywood ice cream cone, looming over a shack. “Lydia,” said Mary. “Want to get fro yo?” 

“I love fro yo,” Lydia said. Her attempt at a smile hurt Mary - it was so obviously forced - but she forced herself to smile back. 

But the shack was boarded up. “It’s closed,” Mary said, aghast. She struggled to think of something cheerful to say about that. She could hear gears grinding in her brain, bits of rust falling off their teeth as she tried to kick her good cheer into gear for the first time in years, and cried, “Okay, so this _sucks_.” 

Suddenly Lydia burst into laughter. She doubled over, stomping one foot against the ground as she laughed, and then sat down hard on the sand, still giggling wildly. Mary stared, unnerved, then sat down beside her, leaning her elbows on her knees and propping her chin on her fists. 

“I suck at cheering people up,” Mary said.

Lydia started to giggle again. “Aw, no,” she said. “Don’t worry about it, you cheer me up just by being your own gothtastic vampire self.” 

“Well...thanks,” said Mary, and felt a small smile tugging at her mouth. She stretched her legs out along the sand. The waves were creeping up towards her toes. 

“Anyway,” said Lydia, and her voice sounded suddenly...tentative, almost. “I don’t need you to cheer me up,” she said. When did Lydia ever sound tentative? “I just...need you to be here. And you are. So...thanks.” 

When she was going to say something honest and scary and sweet. “Sure,” Mary said. She squeezed Lydia’s shoulders, wishing she could think of something half as good to say back. “Any time.” 

Lydia leaned her head against Mary’s shoulder. They sat like that for a little while, Mary running her fingers through the cool sand; and then a wave rushed up the sand, slopping over their shoes. They shrieked and scrambled up and pelted away on the sand.

They stopped running under a peeling gray lifeguard station, panting for breath. “We could get fro yo on the way home,” Mary said, taking off a sopping shoe and shaking it, as if that would help dry it. “There has to be at least one place in California that’s actually open.” 

“I _love_ fro yo,” Lydia said. 

“My treat?” Mary suggested. Lydia punched Mary’s shoulder. “Ow!” Mary protested. 

“Stop being so _nice_ , it’s so _weird_ , it’s like you think I’m _dying_ or something,” Lydia said. 

“I can be nice,” Mary protested. “I am nice. Sometimes.” 

Lydia was rolling her eyes. 

“And we’re all dying slowly,” Mary said brightly, and was a little horrified at herself for saying something so dour; but Lydia was grinning. 

“Except those of us who are already _vampires_ ,” Lydia said. “Is that why you picked, like, the grossest day ever to bring me to the beach? If it wasn’t super cloudy you would totally sparkle?” 

“Oh my _god_ , Lydia, do we need to have this conversation again? Real vampires _do not_ sparkle!” Mary protested. Lydia’s _I'm driving you crazy but you don’t really mind_ smile widened. “And if they do, then you’re a vampire too,” Mary added. “Because you sparkle _all the time_.”

"Well, duh,” said Lydia. She flung an arm around Mary’s shoulder. “That’s why we get along so well, we're like vampire twins. Now let’s go get fro yo!”


End file.
